


home is wherever I'm with you

by TheFamousFireLadyM



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Fluff and Smut, Gift Exchange, M/M, Robot/Human Relationships, TEH GAY, butt stuff, its so cute it hurts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-22
Updated: 2016-02-22
Packaged: 2018-05-22 16:09:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6086170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFamousFireLadyM/pseuds/TheFamousFireLadyM
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a long day of helping the Minutemen, Atticus and Nick get a moment to themselves.<br/>(A belated valentines day gift)</p>
            </blockquote>





	home is wherever I'm with you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mothtrap](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mothtrap/gifts).



> happy valentines day you filthy animal ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)  
> this was a gift for a friend in the toaster fuckers skype chat. we did a little valentines exchange and this happened. i hope i did atticus justice.

It was hard work clearing out an area for a settlement, Atticus thought to himself, wiping a bit of ghoul grime from his forehead as he paused a second to breathe. There was a radiation storm coming, he could smell it in the air.

“You’re really soaking up the rads standing out here like that, kid.” Nick noticed how Atticus’ forehead crinkled with the effort, watching the sole survivor look to the sky where it had started to turn a sickly shade of green.

He gave the synth a terse grin, reloading his revolver as he nodded toward the remnants of a house a few meters away. It looked safe enough. The roof was solid and had no holes in it where he could see at least. “You think there’s a spot we can set up camp for the night, get out of this rain?”

“Couldn’t hurt.” Nick chanced a look toward the house; noting how it still seemed to be standing well enough, and he couldn’t see any damage done to the roof either. That was good. “We took care of any threat around here, but still, we should be careful.”

“Yeah, sure. Don’t want some rabid animals sneaking up on us while we get some shut eye.” Atticus elbowed him in the ribs, putting on a mock frightened voice, hands up and shaking as he pretended to be scared, clearly sarcastic. “Oh no, a killer mole-rat, here to hold us up at gunpoint.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“C’mon, Valentine, don’t be such a wet blanket.” Atticus put an arm over his shoulder, and Nick couldn’t help but put a gentle hand to his back.

It was a few quick moments when they checked the rooms of the house for anything that could harm them, putting down a few stray radroaches, before Nick lit a fire. Atticus settled down beside the warmth, pulling Nick down with him.

“Do you mind if we, you know…?” Atticus draped a leg over Nick’s hip, hands drifting along his shoulders before settling around his lapels, gripping them with a vengeance. His mouth was on Nick’s lips as he spoke against them. “Fool around a little?”

“I’m starting to think this was your plan all along.” The detective removed his hat, putting it aside where he was sitting. The crackle of the fire was soothing, and the light flickering across their faces threw his expression into relief. Atticus found the way he looked to be such a turn on, the red glow illuminating his face. It made the light of his eyes stand out that much more, gold against black.

“You know me, Nick, I’m secretly a mastermind.” He pulled Nick in for a kiss, and the synth paused, fingertips tapping along the underside of Atticus’ jaw.

“Mm, what a hardened criminal.” His lips were rough against Atticus’s. He knew he had chapped lips of his own, but the beaten up synthetic flesh was something more akin to leather. Atticus had grown to like the feeling on his skin. “Maybe you should be locked up and the key thrown away.”

“That’s not the only thing hard.” Atticus kissed him again, letting his mouth linger. The taste of ash and oil was as familiar to him as home.

“About that..” Nick smoothed his palm along the crease of Atticus’s jeans, where he knew he had an erection. “Sounds like something we should take care of.”

“Sounds like it, huh?” His fingers found their way up his neck, coming to rest curled at his jaw, mouthing along the raw edges of Nick’s face. “Got a plan, Valentine?”

“You know I always think on my feet.” Nick cupped his cock through his pants, and watched as Atticus let out a soft sound.

“I think I’d prefer it if you thought on something else.” He rolled his hips toward Nick’s palm.

“You say that, but..”

“Nick, I told you that I don’t care about  _ that.”  _ Atticus took the synth’s face in his hands and kissed him, holding Nick’s gaze as best he could. “You’re more than enough just like this.”

“Mm,” Nick pulled back, letting Atticus climb closer. He was warm, but Atticus was warmer.

The sole survivor settled neatly in his lap, dangling limbs and all. The synth wrapped a steadying arm around his waist, his sharp fingers taking the time to unzip his jeans, peeling them down to Atticus’ thighs. His legs shifted when the muggy air hit them, still rock hard. His erection dripped, eager for Nick’s touch, and Atticus pulled Nick’s mouth to his, a hand on the back of his head. The other man pressed their faces close when Nick switched hands, and he could feel the gentle scratch of the pinpoint nibs as Nick took hold of the small of his back. His fleshed hand curled around Atticus’ cock, and he tilted his head back to let out a hiss of pleasure.

A dry chuckle edged its way up from the dregs of Nick’s throat, and he nuzzled the edge of Atticus’ jaw, as the sole survivor’s breathing picked up.

“Need more, sweetheart?” Nick breathed in his ear, voice low like a rumble. The heat between them, each quick stroke, was like a crackle of static electricity, running through his veins and leading to his cock, a pool of liquid warmth settling there as Nick touched him.

Atticus nodded, unable to get the words out.

“Please.” Nick prompted, fingers trailing down his back.

“ _ Please _ .” Atticus echoed, desperate for his touch. Nick’s fingers tensed for a second, twitching around his cock, but never truly stroking him. “Don’t torture me like this, Nick, please.”

“Or else what?” Nick’s palm closed around the engorged head, smoothing his leathery palm across the sensitive tip. It took all of Atticus’ willpower not to jerk his hips up at that; his legs shook with the effort.

“You  _ know _ what.”

“Oh?” Nick gave him a smile, gold eyes focused on Atticus’ open mouth, watching as he let out a soft cry. “I didn’t think you were in any position to make threats.”

“Oh god, shut up and put your mouth on me already.”

His tongue swiped across the pulsing line of Atticus’ jugular, before he bit down. The sole survivor howled, so close already, and the synth knew it. Nick pulled back only a hair with a sly grin, blowing cool air on the beginning of a welt, and Atticus nearly lost his mind at the sensation, mouth slack.

“Fuck..” He breathed, as Nick tightened his grip on his erection. The sound that escaped him was closer to a squawk of surprise than anything else, but it segued into a long moan as the synth dragged his fist down the length of his cock, taking his leisurely time with it. Atticus rocked his hips toward the heat of his hand, but their proximity made it difficult to really get any friction. It was hell.

Nick switched hands again, the hot metal of his unskinned hand closing around the swollen length as his fleshed fingers crept down Atticus’ ass. He shivered despite the warmth, and shifted his ass against Nick’s hand in anticipation.    


“Patience is a virtue, kid.” His teeth grazed the edge of Atticus’ ear.    


“I don’t have time for this, Nick. I need you  _ now _ .”

Mhm.” The synth pressed the tip of his finger against his waiting ass, and Atticus writhed right there from that touch alone. “You’ve been waiting for this, hm?”

“Quit teasing and get on with it.” He moaned, inhaling sharply when another knuckle of Nick’s finger pressed into him. “H-hah, yeah, oh fuck..”

“You sure this is all you need?”

Atticus’ eyes met Nick’s face, chest heaving with the effort to use actual words. “Yeah, god, just give it to me, please..”

Nick shoved the rest of his finger into him, sinking down to the last knuckle. He arched up. It wasn’t big, but combined with the tight grip on his cock it was heaven.

Atticus let out a shaky breath, slowly starting to rock his hips between Nick’s hands, the easy slow little ministrations bringing him closer to the edge each time.

“Oh, oh shit,  _ Nick- _ !” He cried out, arms wrapping around the synth’s neck as he buried his face in the collar of his jacket, breathing in the scent of Nick, smoke and metal, as his orgasm came crashing down around him.

“You okay, kid?” Nick’s hand left his cock, coming to rest on his hip.

“Yeah,” He breathed, catching his breath, “Yeah, ‘m okay.” He hesitated, words sitting on his tongue that he wanted to say, but he knew Nick knew just the same. “I love you, Nick.”

Nick’s arms found their way around Atticus’ back, settling comfortably in position, as if that was where they belonged. The sole survivor nestled close to him, the flush of his face buried in the crook of his neck, a satisfied smile still plastered across his face. The sound of the radioactive rain hitting the roof was a soothing noise, and Atticus found himself drifting off to sleep much faster than he thought he would. Nick leaned back against the wall, letting the sole survivor rest. When Atticus’ breathing slowed to a relaxed pace, Nick kissed his forehead, weathered lips lingering on his brow.

“I love you too, kid.”


End file.
